


Death loves me

by dancey94



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Backstory, Canon Backstory, Death, Hospitals, Incarnations, Kissing, M/M, Reincarnation, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, cop!will, is will going to be drawn to the dark side?, ish, who is the chesapeake ripper?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-10 22:02:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5602627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancey94/pseuds/dancey94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will gets stabbed by a suspect and ends up in the hospital where he sees a man dressed in black. After a few years, Will meets the man again when an apprehension goes wrong. For some reason their paths cross frequently from this point on.</p><p>A tragic love story with a twist?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> New Year - new fic  
> hope You like it and i hope this year will be better than 2015 ;))  
> (i don't want to spoil anything so i leave the tag section pretty small for now)

The grey tiles of the pavement are stained with the crimson liquid. Pedestrians gather round and surround a body lying on the ground. Someone takes out a mobile phone and calls an ambulance. A woman screams in the background. A few people yell that a cop is dying.

The man on the ground blinks slowly, his eyes are closed more often than open. He doesn’t panic, he seems powerless. Someone approaches him and grabs his hand. That’s the least they can do.

“Is there a doctor here?” Someone asks. The man is bleeding out, watching the people around him but not really paying attention. “He’s drifting away.”

“Oh my God, he’s going to die!” A woman screams.

Among the congregation there is a man, a dark figure. More of a shape than a person, really. Something makes him stand out in the crowd as the man lying on the ground pays attention to him. A dark shape, hazy before his eyelids. He won’t remember him.

Everything becomes blurry and happens too fast yet too slowly. An ambulance appears and two medics emerge by the bleeding man. He’s quickly taken into the vehicle and then into the hospital. On the way there, the two medics tear apart the man’s uniform and examine the wound. The man was stabbed. There is a visible mark where the knife opened the man.

The man is losing a lot of blood, he’s not very likely to make it. One of the people in the ambulance finds the man’s documents. “Will! His name is Will.”

“Will? Do you hear me?” A medic asks but Will doesn’t give any sign of comprehension. “Will!”

The man’s eyes remain closed and the medics will need to resuscitate him in a moment. They stop the bleeding and in five minutes Will is lying on an operating table in the hospital. The surgeon takes care of him for the next few hours.

Will is unconscious during the operation but he’s dreaming. Or at least he thinks he is. He sees everything as if he was still awake. There are doctors and nurses surrounding him, a bright lamp above his body. The walls are faded green. Soothing? Is this supposed to help the doctors focus?

Will looks around and sees someone else. Someone who is not a doctor or a nurse. Someone who is dressed in black clothes. The dark shape from before. It’s still blurry but Will is certain it’s a figure of a man.

“Who are you?” Will asks. His head is lifted to better see the man, while the surgeon is operating on him. The dark character doesn’t answer. It remains by the wall and looks at Will.

“You’re a police officer.” A warm, soothing voice says. Will isn’t sure if it’s a question or a statement but he nods. Suddenly, a sharp pain emerges in Will’s shoulder and he cries out. This can’t be happening. He’s under anaesthesia. He’s not allowed to feel any pain or talk to anyone.

“What is happening?” Will murmurs, more to himself than to the shape standing by the wall.

“You were chasing a criminal. He stabbed you. You were ready to give up your life for justice.” The man continues analysing Will and it becomes a strange therapy session.

“I’m a cop. My job is to defend justice.”

“Yes.” The dark figure takes a step closer towards the operating table where the surgeon applies stitches to Will’s cleaned wound. The shape is moving closer and closer yet Will still cannot see the face of the man. It’s like he woke up after a long sleep and his eyes were still having difficulty to focus. “You are a good man, Will.”

Will blinks. The pain in his shoulder falters and he feels like he’s being drugged. The vision blurs and the dark shape disappears completely.

~~~~~~~~~~

Light appears behind his eyelids which are heavy. He’s awake but he needs a moment to fully process what’s happening before he opens his eyes. His name is Will Graham. That much he knows. He’s over thirty, he’s a cop. He was in the field, checking the place where he was called in. There was an emergency call and he was sent there. His partner took the turn to the left and he went right. He had a hunch and followed it. There was a man, with longer brown hair and a leather jacket. He wanted to ask him for his ID when he suddenly started running away and Will started to chase him. They were in the open, in the middle of the city, right next to a bar. There were plenty of people in the street, the man was easy to be lost. But Will was focused and he kept his eyes on the suspect. Some people left the bar and the man probably believed he could blend in. Will moved into the crowd. People got curious about the cop among them and then, suddenly, Will felt a sharp blade in his shoulder and a warm feeling of something gushing out of his body. Blood, lots of blood, as the suspect took the knife out and with him.

“Mr Graham?” Will hears someone’s voice and then opens his eyes and not without an effort. It takes a lot of his willpower to finally lift his eyelids and have a look at the man in the room. A doctor. Dressed in white clothes. With a notepad in hands. “I’m glad to see you finally awake.”

“How long have I been out?” Will asks and realises how dry his mouth is.

“You were in the surgery yesterday.” The doctor explains and gives Will a cup of water with a straw inside. Will sips the water and already feels better. “How do you feel?”

“Um… like someone who got stabbed.” Will says and his faint laughter makes him shake his shoulders slightly so the pain comes back. Will winces gently.

“You need rest. We’ll release you next week if everything heals properly and you will feel ready to leave the hospital.” The doctor states and Will nods. He looks at the doctor’s identification and spots a name Chilton.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Will is visited by his partner, Matthew Brown, who tells him they caught the guy who stabbed Will and that he’s facing serious charges, especially since he tried to kill a police officer on duty. Will is grateful for the visit but he keeps it short by saying he’s not feeling well.

It’s one of Will’s features which makes him not very popular among the other cops. Will is not friendly. He doesn’t let anyone in. He rarely meets with the others for drinks. There were voices that he may be a spy or that he was hired to check how the others work. It quickly turned out that it was just Will. Other people have always mocked Will or called him a freak. No one has ever bothered to get to know him and Will wasn’t particularly brought down by the fact.

Will rests for the next few days, gradually coming back to himself. From time to time he believes he has hallucinations when, while walking through a corridor, he keeps seeing the dark shape walking around. At first it really resembles hallucinations. The figure disappears right in front of his eyes. Then, Will starts blinking every time he sees the man. He needs to know this is all a relic from his dream.

The clock on the wall is slowly ticking, making Will nervous when, after the week, Will has a check-up and is allowed to leave the hospital. He goes back home.

At work he’s greeted like a hero. He took a knife in the shoulder in attempt to stop a criminal. He gets a raise and friendly pats on the healthy shoulder. Then, after a while everything returns to normal. He’s a simple police officer whom everyone considers weird and introverted.

Will never speaks about his hallucinations and forgets about it as he does not meet the dark figure again. It remains in his memory, in the back of his head, but never appears on the surface. His life goes on undisturbed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Will leaves the homicide division of the New Orleans police department to attend graduate school in forensics at George Washington University. He is a good student and after graduation he is admitted to work for the FBI. Originally, he works in the FBI crime laboratory and stands out due to his unusual way of thinking. He’s praised by the agency and soon, his career moves in a different direction. Will is assigned teaching duties at the Academy after outstanding work in the laboratory. This is probably the period in his life, Will is going to remember as the best and most satisfying. Later, however, he is offered a post in the field as a “special investigator”. The title sounds suspicious and Will believes the FBI wants to take advantage of his talents but he accepts the offer. He’s assigned only to those most extreme and unusual cases, which doesn’t drain his brain and energy.

Will never gets a title of an FBI agent. The strict procedures which detect instability stand in his way of getting a real badge and a permanent post in the field. This doesn’t discourage Will as he continues his work.

It is only the unlucky day when Will is assigned to a case of the Minnesota Shrike that forever changes Will’s life.

The case is slow, the murders happen in the span of eight months before the eventual closure. Will finds a little curly piece of metal in the clothes one of the victims had on. It is the kind of shred a pipe threader makes. Will talks to a lot of people – steamfitters, plumbers and other workers on various construction sites. It takes a long time before Will stumbles upon a resignation letter. It’s peculiar but Will cannot exactly explain why.

Garrett Jacob Hobbs, the author of the letter, does not work anywhere, so Will has to find him at home. He is accompanied by a uniformed officer. They are going up the stairs in Hobbs’s apartment house and the man must have spotted them because he shoves his wife out of the door and she falls down the stairs dead. Hobbs killed her.

Will asks the officer to call for SWAT to get some help but then hears kids in the apartment, screaming. He wants to wait, allow the special force to handle the situation, but he can’t. Will walks into the apartment with a loaded gun in his hand and immediately sees Hobbs, who catches a girl from behind and presses a knife to her throat. The cut is too long and deep before Will shoots the man. Both Hobbs and the girl drop dead on the floor. It’s too late.

When the SWAT team arrives, they have only to write a report and take shaking Will out of there. When they’re leaving the apartment, Will spots a dark figure in the hallway. He almost faints as he recognises it. All the hallucinations and memories come back to him and Will falls on the floor. The haunting déjà vu makes Will weak. Tears form in his eyes as he realises he didn’t manage to save the girl and now he feels he’s going crazy again.

The dark shape in front of him kneels by the dead girl and Will bursts in tears. He yells, he bangs his fists on the wooden floor. Other officers watch him go mad as he begs someone to save the girl. The shape does not respond to Will, nor does he even notice him. In seconds, the figure is gone and Will lies down on the floor, exhausted.

Will is taken to the hospital and he quickly lands in the psychiatric ward. The doctor diagnoses him with a mental breakdown and recommends a leave from work, at least for a month. Will doesn’t want to listen. He refuses to eat or talk for the whole week that he spends in the facility. The doctors suspect it may be a deep depression and decide to keep Will for a week longer just in case.

Will is released only for the girl’s burial because he insisted to go there against his doctor’s advice. The ceremony is short and not many people attend. The whole family is dead. The father killed the mother and the daughter, and then Will killed the father. Among the participants are the girl’s friends from school and some relatives which probably didn’t see the family in a long time.

The atmosphere is gloomy and the weather doesn’t help. It’s chilly and cloudy. Bells ring in the distance, otherwise it’s completely quiet. When Will stand over the grave, he spots a smudge in a fair distance. He wants to ignore this; he already started to believe he’s going crazy and following the shadow will only prove that. But the smudge turns into a shadow, a familiar shape that Will just needs to touch and find out it’s real.

Will goes in the figure’s direction but it seems to be even farther with every next step. Will starts running towards the shape and eventually, it disappears completely.

~~~~~~~~~~

After a month in the psychiatric facility, Will finally returns home. It’s clean since dr Alan Bloom promised Will to take care of it during Will’s absence. Dr Bloom loves dogs as does Will so it wasn’t really a challenge to handle the three furry animals. They wait for Will well-fed and happy to finally see their owner.

Will appears at his doorstep and is greeted by Alan and three jumping dogs. Dr Bloom doesn’t want to say anything but he notices how thin Will is. Their relationship is the healthiest Will has ever had. He admires the fact that Alan doesn’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do and that they are simply friends. Dr Bloom doesn’t use his psychiatric tricks on Will but acts as a facilitator.

“I thought we could go for a lunch. Eat and talk. What do you think?” Alan asks.

“Um. That’s very thoughtful of you but I’d rather stay with the dogs, have some rest. Maybe some other time.”

Dr Bloom nods and leaves the house. Will remains alone but for the three fluffy animals. He searches the cabinets for booze but finds none. A sigh leaves his mouth as he collapses on the bed and closes his eyes. He doesn’t need to wait long until he’s fast asleep. Even the dog’s scratching or whining cannot wake him up. Will’s heavy sleep might appear to a stranger as a coma.

Will twitches on the bed and whimpers, as bad dreams occupy his mind. In the hospital he was taking meds which made him emotionless and when he was asleep, all he saw was darkness. When the doctors decided to let him out, they recommended continuing taking the pills but Will knew that wasn’t an option. He might have deceived the psychiatrists that he’s well but he really needs some booze right now. He wants to drink and sleep and not be bothered.

Surprisingly enough, he never dreamt about Hobbs or his daughter. Maybe it was due to the meds, as now Will sees the girl’s throat cut and she falls on the floor bleeding out. Will still remembers the feeling when he was stabbed. The warm feeling that quickly turned into exhaustion and sleepiness. Then the drying blood around him and the loss of blood made him cold. Soon, it would have been the end.

Will’s eyeballs move under his eyelids and the dream takes a different turn. He sees a dark figure strolling through the city. People around the man collapse on the ground. Will realises he’s in his uniform from the times when he was a cop. He reaches for his gun and starts following the figure. Quickly, the shape vanishes as Will is awoken by the dog jumping all over him.

“What is it?” Will asks in a tired, hoarse voice.

It’s almost six in the morning. Will lets the dogs out and crosses his arms on his chest because it’s colder than he thought. He needs to stop thinking about the man from his dream, he needs the hallucinations to stop.

Will takes his car and drives to the nearest store. He buys a few bottles of whiskey, his favourite kind of alcohol. Not the beer or the wine. Nothing can get him where he wants to go as whiskey can. Maybe it’s his father’s education but Will knows he’s going to be forever faithful to whiskey.

He also takes a few instant soups and ready-made meals but not enough not to come back here in a few days. The few bottles of booze may not be enough either.


	2. Moorings built on sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You survived so that you could make use of your life. You survived because people believe in you.” The voice in Will’s head goes on but the dark shape remains only a shadow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, this fic gives me so much joy and i hope there is at least one person who will read it and like it xD hihihi  
> much love to all who reads, leave kudos or comments and i wish You a nice weekend ^^

Will stinks. He’d never have believed how quickly a man can fall into a rabbit hole and drown in despair and alcohol. Every day is exactly the same and Will isn’t sure if he likes the routine. It’s probably easier than wrestling with the demons that meet him every night. Will sleeps during the night so that he could be awake later and drink more.

His boss from the FBI calls him a few times but Will doesn’t feel like talking. He says he needs time but when he fully recovers he’ll be good as new. Will knows he needs cases to function. He need distraction, he needs work. But not just yet.

One night, a dark figure appears in his dream again and Will gets angry. The shape is standing close to Will but the man’s face is blurred and Will can’t recognise it.

“You’re a good man, Will.” Comes a dark, husky voice which makes Will shiver. “You save other people.” The voice continues and Will feels a pang of regret and rage. He knows he’s a good guy; he doesn’t need to be told that. Or maybe he does. It seems that in all this storm of drinking and feeling nothing but pity for himself, Will forgot there are people out there who could be killed and who will be killed if Will doesn’t stop the killers. Of course no one can stop all the wrong that happens in the world or make crime disappear completely but if there’s anything Will is good at (besides fixing boat motors) then it’s catching the killers.

“You survived so that you could make use of your life. You survived because people believe in you.” The voice in Will’s head goes on but the dark shape remains only a shadow.

Will shakes his head, in his dream and in reality, unconsciously wanting to get rid of the vision. The figure sprawls and engulfs Will, the darkness reaching for him like giant arms. Will is surrounded by the shapeless matter and feels cold.

He wakes up and sees that the dogs must have dragged the sheets from the bed as he is lying in tracksuit pants and a t-shirt, alone on the bare mattress. Will curses quietly and then struggles to win back the sheets from the three animals who don’t want to give up.

“Fine!” Will yells and takes out a blanket from the cupboard. He covers himself with it and lies down on the bed again. Before he closes his eyes, he sees the empty bottles of whiskey on the floor and his nightstand. He promised Jack Crawford, his boss, that would return. He promised that he would recover. The meds were making him feel like a blank piece of paper or like a mannequin but the whiskey doesn’t make him feel any better. Will’s chest presses against his lungs and it gets difficult for him to breathe. He thinks he’s going to suffocate.

Will considers standing up and fighting for life and breath. But maybe this is how he is supposed to go. He looks at the empty bottles of whiskey and regrets the past few weeks he spent in bed, drinking.

The dogs whine and bark as black smoke starts forming in front of Will’s bed.

“Oh no, not again.” Will whispers and is convinced he’s either dreaming or hallucinating. He pinches his own arm but it doesn’t help. The dark shadow assembles in a figure of a man, already familiar to Will. “Why can’t you let me go?” Will whines and moves from the bed to stand on the opposite side of it from the dark character. “Am I going insane?”

“You’re not insane. You’re different.” The shape explains and Will rubs his eyes and blinks to make the figure disappear.

“Yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.” Will spits out. He remembers all the other boys in school and later other cops in New Orleans calling him ‘different’. Him being ‘different’ is what got him the job in the FBI and what led him to his current situation.

“You can’t go on like this. You cannot drink to death.”

“Can’t I?” Will asks more like he was genuinely curious whether such thing was possible rather than asking for permission.

“You can. This is exactly why you need to stop. I won’t save you again.” The figure says and disappears, a smoke falling down and dispersing on the floor.

Will frowns and blinks to make sure the darkness is gone. He turns on the lamp and takes the empty bottles of whiskey to the kitchen. He throws the bottles into the bin and looks around. The house is a mess. He cannot have Jack or Alan here with the interiors looking like a storm was here.

One of the dogs come closer to Will and rubs against his leg.

“He’s probably right. I mean…” Will shakes his head in disbelief at his own behaviour. The nightmare is not real. The figure haunting him lately is not real.

Will waits until eight and calls Alan Bloom.

“Will? It’s relieving to hear from you.” Dr Bloom says. Will has isolated himself even more after coming back from the hospital but now he feels it’s time to change that. He needs to return to being an antisocial freak on the usual level.

“I thought I’d give you a call and invite you over for that dinner I owe you.”

“Excellent. When do you want me to come?”

“Um, around seven?”

“Alright. Should I bring anything?”

“No. I have everything I need.”

Dr Bloom must be suspicious about the invitation but also glad that Will decided to return to the living. The first step is to tidy up the place. When the house is more or less clean at noon, Will drives to a store for the necessary ingredients. He buys a lottery ticket and a book to read instead of drinking.

On his way back home, Will spots a dogs on the side of the road. It has a collar and a leash but it seems to have run away. Will stops his car and calls the dogs. He finds a treat in his trunk and whistles. The dog comes closer but when Will moves slightly, the animal runs away. After a moment of struggling, the dog approaches Will and takes the treat. It is a few minutes later, when Will manages to lure the dog inside the car and take him home.

Will washes the dogs and dries it. He puts it in a basket and thinks of a name. The three other dogs are curious about their new mate and sniff it.

“Buster!” Will comes up with the name. “Guys, this is Buster. Hope he’s happy in his new home.”

At five Will starts preparing dinner. The dogs are playing happily in the yard and Will chops vegetables. It doesn’t take him long to make the meal; he spends more time trying to figure out where are the damn napkins. He places the spoons and forks and knives on the table and waits. When he hears a car approaching, Will calls the dogs to come inside and then greets Alan.

“I don’t want to sound patronizing…” Dr Bloom begins.

“Then don’t.”

Alan restates what he intended to say in his head and only then speaks again.

“What made you call me?”

“I want to go back.” Will confesses and Alan frowns, not fully comprehending what the man means. “I can’t go on like this. I need a job, I need cases. A few weeks in the field and I’ll be as good as new.”

“Your work in the field is what brought you to this state in the first place.” Alan reasons.

“I know. But I need to go back. It’s what keeps me sane. More or less.”

“Why not start with something lighter?” Dr Bloom suggests.

“Like fixing boat motors?” Will asks and the question makes Alan smile.

“If that’s what it takes. I know you’re good at it. But I know you need something more, a challenge.”

“Exactly.”

Dr Bloom watches Will and considers something. There is a glint in his eyes and this very serious look that betrays his intentions always. Will knows Alan enough to know what to expect just by seeing the man’s eyes.

“There is a case. A serious one. And the FBI seems to be handling it rather unsuccessfully. They asked me to consult but it didn’t lead them anywhere.”

Will raises his eyebrows, hoping for his friend to continue. Dr Bloom reaches for his briefcase and opens it. He takes out a file with some articles cut out from the newspapers.

“Have you seen them?”

Will looks at the articles and the photos. The headlines all mention the Chesapeake Ripper. Will was too busy inducing alcohol into his blood to care about the world and the never ceasing crimes. He checks the dates and already starts thinking. His brain creates a timeline and starts placing events on it but he quickly gets tired and looks at Alan.

“Will you talk to Crawford and tell him that I’m okay to work again?”

“Are you?”

“Doubting me now is not helping.” Will states and sips some water. Alan nods.

“I’ll leave you the file. I have a copy somewhere at home and at the Bureau.”

“Did you bring it on purpose?”

“You know I did.”

It’s Will’s turn to nod as he takes the file from the table and takes it to the living room. He’ll work on that later. When he sits back at the table, Alan seems glad.

“There is one more thing.” Will says and dr Bloom waits for the elaboration. “I have to continue my work for the FBI as a special investigator. I would never pass the test for stability. Especially not right now.”

“Is it because of the Hobbs’s case or has something else happened?”

Will waits a second before speaking again. He invited Alan exactly because he needed to talk to someone about his… condition. Someone he can trust.

“I’m haunted. I’ve been seeing things lately and it’s one of the reasons I called you. I don’t trust myself right now. I don’t know if I’m going insane or why am I having these hallucinations…” Will rubs his eyes while Alan looks around and then places a hand on Will’s shoulder in a friendly gesture.

“Will, you’re not insane. You went through a trauma and whatever hallucinations you have are probably the result of your constant beating up because you couldn’t save the girl. But you’ll have to get over it.”

“I’m trying.”

“And how many bottles of whiskey does your ‘trying’ include?”

Will looks at Alan, full of rage and resentment but deep down he knows his friend is right.

“Enough.”

Alan nods.

When Will’s guest leaves the house after nine, four dogs start cheering and jumping around. Dr Bloom frowns when he spots a new addition in the pack. Will shrugs and smiles. “Buster. I couldn’t help it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Will is walking through the hospital’s corridor. The walls are faded blue, cold, and the atmosphere is slightly depressing. It brings back memories of Will’s many stays in hospitals. Oh how familiar it all feels, yet always different and somehow fresh.

The particular door is closed and a uniformed officer is waiting outside. Will shows him his temporary badge and is allowed inside. A victim is lying in bed, almost tied to it by the many tubes and cables and other medical equipment. The doctors were contemplating whether the woman is worth saving and if it is worth prolonging her suffering. They decided to keep her going for a week tops and then gather again to discuss further treatment.

The surgeon managed to find out that her liver was removed and heart tempered with. She’s alive but probably not for long anymore. Will isn’t expected to talk to her, mainly because she’s been unconscious ever since she was found and brought to the hospital. He is supposed to look at her, regain his mind set, and maybe come back with some new theories.

There’s a chair which Will moves and sits by the bed. He’s flood with memories and what-if’s. The room is silent apart from the equipment which hisses and whirls. Will wonders whether she’s suffering and if in her mind she’s in real-life hell. He touches her hand and hopes she dies in peace and instead of acute pain.

Suddenly, the door to the room squeaks and Will looks in its direction, thinking it’s the officer. It’s not. It’s no one. Through the open space Will can see that the officer has left his post, probably – hopefully to the toilet. Will is here, so the officer could have a break, even if a short one.

The door opened. Was this a nurse? Will looks again at the woman in bed and sighs. Then, a man dressed in black appears in the door. When Will spots him, he blinks. He rubs at his eyes and blinks a few more times to make the man disappear. It’s the figure from his hallucinations. It’s the shape from his nightmares. It’s… not looking at Will.

The man is somehow blurry. He steps closer to the woman lying in bed and watches her. Will looks at the door and still cannot spot the officer.

“Who are you? Are you the family?” Will asks because he’s not risking being heard in case he’s hallucinating and the man is not real.

The figure doesn’t turn to look at Will, only remains staring blankly at the dying woman.

“I saw you at the funeral. I keep seeing you. Why do I keep seeing you?”

The man doesn’t answer and moves towards the door. Will is about to stand up and follow the figure but the equipment starts beeping and the monitors shows some dysfunction. The doctors hurry into the room but it’s already too late. The heart rate is on the zero level and the woman is finally dead. Will sighs and runs out of the room.

“Did you see anyone? Anyone suspicious?” Will asks the officer who just came back but the only response he gets in return in confused expression and a shake of head. Will looks around and then surges towards the stairs. He descends to the lower level and then another one until he’s at the reception on the ground floor. Nothing. The man is gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

Will is waiting by the door to the boss of the Behavioural Science unit, Jack Crawford. There is an important meeting inside and Will was advised to wait patiently. He stands and looks at the pale beige walls, trying desperately to remember the man’s features, anything to go on with. What was the way he smelt or the way he walked?

Will closes his eyes and recreates the scene at the hospital when he was stabbed and the doctors were operating on him. The man hasn’t changed a bit. Will remembers clearly his dream and compares the figure with the one he met a few hours ago. What was the man said for the first time? ‘You’re a good man, Will.’ Yes. And he keeps repeating that phrase. If that’s just Will’s imagination, then he’s pretty damn opinionated.

“Will?”

Will hears a voice coming from outside of his mind so he opens his eyes and blinks a few times. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“Come in.” Crawford says watching the other agent being slightly confused and absent-minded. Will doesn’t sit down; he approaches the window and looks through it with his hands inside his pockets. “Want to tell me what happened in the hospital?” Jack asks and sits by his desk, eyes on Will, who starts fiddling with the blinds.

“The woman died. There was nothing the doctors could do.”

Crawford nods and leans in his chair. It’s going to be either an enforced long story or a short report, depending on the agent’s mood. Will likes to be precise and speak as concisely as he can but if in a specific mood, he can elaborate, including every minute detail.

“She was bound to die soon.” Jack comments and Will looks around the room. He shifts his eyes from one picture to another, from the photograph on the desk to the books lying on the table. Will wonders if maybe the man he’s hallucinating is a recreation of his vivid imagination. Perhaps he saw him somewhere, on a painting or in the TV.

“Yeah. The doctors said she survived long enough.”

“The officer who was there wrote a report.” Jack begins and Will nods, frowning slightly. It’s obvious the officer wrote a report, that’s his duty. “He didn’t mention it on the paper but he told another officer that you appeared confused and maybe a little frightened. They already spread rumours about you. Now, I know you’re a good cop and a good agent-”

“I’m not an agent, not officially. Exactly because I wouldn’t pass the stability test. But I’m not insane. I asked you for the job because I know I’m good at it and because I feel better. Whatever this officer told his buddies, I- I just don’t care.”

“Well, unfortunately, I do. You work for me so whatever they say about you, it affects me and my unit.”

“Are you saying I’m misrepresenting you?” Will is getting angry and nervous; he starts fiddling with his fingers, rubbing one hand against the other.

“No. I only want to be sure you’re still up for it. I know what this job did to you.”

Will feels on the verge or bursting into a hysterical laughter. He couldn’t care less about some cop who left his post and failed to spot a man who might be responsible for-

Will sighs and tries to stay calm.

“Do you want me to quit?”

“No. You quit before and here you are again. You keep coming back. And let me tell you why. I think that the work you do here has created a sense of stability for you. Stability is good for you, Will.”

“Stability requires strong foundations, Jack. My moorings are built on sand.”

“I’m not sand. I am bedrock. When you doubt yourself, you don’t have to doubt me, too.”

Will nods and doesn’t speak again.


	3. Incarnations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo this chapter is for Luca as promised ^^

The sky is navy blue and looks like cashmere with diamonds on it. The stars and the moon makes the night brighter and promise a beautiful sunny day tomorrow. The wind is light and only caresses gently the leaves on the trees around Will’s house. The dogs have returned with his master back home and now settle by the fireplace.

Will sits in a chair and opens the book he’s been reading lately. It’s peaceful and quiet and Will feels at ease. The fire makes the room warm and cozy and it is mere minutes later when Will is asleep in the chair, the book in his lap and head tilted slightly left.

His brain forms a black hole until images appear and Will’s cheek twitches. He sees himself covered in blood and sees the Ripper’s victims as his own. He spend too long looking at the crime scenes pictures and it invaded his mind space. He takes the knife with the intention of cutting a heart out. The sharp blade shines and Will knows he’s smiling. It’s like seeing himself from two different perspectives. He’s about to dive the knife into a person who is still alive.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Will twitches and jumps from the chair. He blinks a few times and looks at the clock. Almost ten. It must be Jack. Or Alan. Who else would visit him so late? Will steps closer to the door, wondering if maybe the knocking was only in his head. Maybe it was only a part of his dream.

Will grabs the knob and turns it slowly. It’s dark outside so he can barely see anyone on the other side. Maybe it really is no one. Or a wind. Or an animal. The door opens and Will sees a man. A tall man, dressed in black, his face blurry and difficult to see in the darkness of the night.

“Yes?” Will asks and squints.

“May I come in?” The man asks in return and Will freezes. His mind is still a little hazy after sleep but Will is certain he knows that voice. This voice is hard to forget.

Will moves aside to give the man a clear entrance. He’s not a shape or a smudge anymore. It’s a man. A tall and… handsome man. Will catches a glimpse of the man’s face and then points at the chair for the man to sit in.

“Do you want something to drink?” Will asks, remembering that’s a polite thing to do but the man smiles gently and shakes his head. Will looks around and then sits opposite the man. “Why don’t you-”

“Call me Hannibal.” The man says with a warm smile, anticipating the host’s question.

“Hannibal…?”

“Lecter. That’s my informal name.”

“Informal name?” Will frowns and wonders what it’s all about.

“People call me by my other name.” Hannibal explains and Will nods in acknowledgement. The man seems to be considering something very carefully and Will wonders if he’s still dreaming. Well, if he is, he can ask anything. Can’t he?

“Who are you?”

Hannibal smiles, wider, revealing his teeth. It’s not mocking, rather amusement.

“You are a detective. Haven’t you figured that out?”

“I believe you’re a hallucination.”

The remark makes Lecter’s smile go away. One of the dogs woke up and comes to lie at the man’s feet. Hannibal looks at the dog and one corner of his lips lifts again.

“It’s a nice…environment you found for yourself. I envy you that.”

“I care for them, they care for me. They’re all strays. Makes it more honest when they’re grateful.”

There is a moment of silence as Hannibal looks at the dogs and then around the room. Will watches the man and holds on to the thought that this is just a stranger and Will’s not insane.

“You’re not supposed to see me.” Hannibal says at last and Will frowns. He goes through different scenarios in his head, wondering if the man is a spy or works for the government. What did Will do to deserve this? “I’ve been watching you for so long. I was almost hoping you’d notice me. And you did. But you’re not allowed to.”

“Why not?”

“Because it disturbs the universe.” Hannibal answers and Will smiles at the memory of him reading The Loves Song of J. Alfred Prufrock as a youngster. When other boys were playing games and telling dirty jokes, Will was wallowing in poetry, crime novels and history.

“How so?”

“People can’t see me, Will. If they see me, it means they are dead.” Hannibal explains and Will leans in his chair. His brows are furrowed and his eyes focus on his arms and then fingers. He’s very much alive, he knows that much. This is ridiculous. He is hallucinating after all. “My formal name is Death.”

Here, Will cannot refrain from bursting into laughter. His mouth opens and wrinkles appear around his eyes as his muscles burn from the sudden movement and the strength of it. Death, yeah, sure. Where is the phone? Will has to call the mental institution. Either for the man or for himself.

“I was supposed to take you so many times. Remember when you were stabbed? That was the first time you were supposed to die. But I knew you were a good man. I’d seen you catch the bad guys and always fighting for justice. I couldn’t take you with me.”

Will listens to the man and his face pales. He saw Hannibal for the first time when he was stabbed, that is correct. But it was just a dream, wasn’t it? He was under a deep sleep. He couldn’t have been talking to this man. Not really.

“Why are you here? Am I dead? Are you here to take me with you finally?”

“No. I couldn’t. I’m just curious. You saw me once because you were supposed to die. But then you kept seeing me. At the funeral, at the hospital. I’m wondering why.”

Will rubs his face and looks into the man’s eyes. He’s not lying. He’s as honest as one can be. There is so much sorrow in his features, though. Suddenly, Will comes up with an idea.

“May I touch your face?”

Hannibal’s eyes widen and he withdraws his head just a bit, like a frightened animal. Will extends his arm, palm open, to show he’s got good intentions. Hannibal looks at his own hands and feels as if they are real. He moves one to meet Will’s. Their hands are inches away. Closer and closer. Will feels his heart pounding loudly as if it was about to fly out of his chest. His middle finger is the longest and it should meet Hannibal’s hand first. Lecter’s hand extends slowly and when it finally meets Will’s finger, it goes through it, as if the man was a ghost. Hannibal quickly withdraws his hand and curls up in the chair he’s sitting in. The scene doesn’t make Will jump out of fear or call the psychiatrist. He’s sad.

The silence prolongs as Hannibal doesn’t dare to look at Will, who sucks in his lower lip in consternation. All three dogs approaches the chair Hannibal sits in and the man stands up to make room for them.

“Wait!” Will stands up as well. “They are not allowed to sit here anyway.” Will shows the dogs a forefinger, a warning not to be disobedient.

“I shouldn’t have come here.”

“But you did.”

“That was a mistake.”

Hannibal moves towards the door but Will manages to stand between him and the door. What the hell is he doing? He’s hallucinating a man, who says his name (or profession?) is Death and now he won’t let him go? He definitely needs to call that mental hospital.

Will closes his eyes and sighs. He moves aside to let the man out and then leans his back against the door. He turns a second later, hopeful to catch a glimpse of Hannibal but all he sees is darkness and the night.

Investigating the matter or discussing it with Alan or Jack, in the middle of the night, seems reckless and would probably lead to Will being placed in a mental facility. To avoid that, Will decides to go to sleep and maybe in the morning he will have a more fresh look at the case.

It is not easy to fall asleep when you’ve just met Death but Will tries. He reads a few pages in the book and takes a pill. In a moment, he’s asleep. Nothing can work better magic than simple fact of being exhausted.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning Will doesn’t feel very bad. He remembers the night before and remembers the man’s face, clearly now. It feels like a dream, though. A stranger in his house, calling himself Death. And he introduced himself with a different name. Hannibal Lecter.

Will wonders if he should check it out immediately and prove himself to be a freak or make breakfast and wait. He puts on a sweater and some pants and whistles for the dogs. The air is chilly and Will rubs his palms.

“Sorry, guys, but I’m not staying.” Will says and steps back into the house. He makes himself coffee and waits. Either for a call from Jack or from Alan or for Hannibal to return. Nothing happens for a quarter and Will sighs. He has to do something. As the phone remains silent, Will turns on his laptop and then starts cursing when it turns out there’s no internet connection. Probably a failure somewhere.

Will whistles for the dogs to come inside, locks them in the house and gets into his car. No way he’s staying home until he’s doing something crazy.

~~~~~~~~~~

The problem with working for the FBI again is working with people. And Will hates people. He doesn’t exactly know how the social standards work and how to behave ‘properly’ around others. He thought he mastered the skill once but he’s back on the way of ‘please, don’t touch me’ and ‘…’, rolling his eyes slightly every time someone defies his rules.

Beverly Katz, whom Will actually admires, is sipping her coffee in the corridor, when Will appears. She smiles and waves at him, which makes him smile faintly and wave back, desperately trying to avoid looking into her eyes. Will walks into the lab, where Zeller, Price and a few other people are processing a dead body. Will almost wants to yawn but a shiver goes down his spine.

“Not the Ripper, as you can probably see.” Brian comments with his hands stuffed in the victim’s body. “But murdered, nevertheless.”

“Hey, are you even assigned to cases other than the Ripper’s?” Jimmy asks and Will winces. He suspected he was back at work but he has yet to discuss the details with Crawford.

“As long as he’s helping, he’s assigned to all cases.” Bev cuts in as she passes Will to help the other guys. She puts on the gloves and approaches a dead body. There’s five of them here. And none of them the Ripper’s achievement. No. They’re all too…ordinary.

“Okay, then. Show us what you’ve got.” Zeller teases and uncovers a third body.

~~~~~~~~~~

Will spends the afternoon at Quantico and leaves the lab at six. He walks through a corridor to get to the exit when he sees a smudge surge before his eyes, quick like a lightening. He stops for a second and Beverly bumps into him.

“Oh, sorry. Sorry.” Katz says and stops typing on her phone. She looks at Will, who seems to have just seen a ghost. He’s pale and his pupils are dilated. “Are you alright?”

“Um.” Will swallows and shakes his head. He needs to stop thinking about the man and start focusing on the presence. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” Bev smiles and gently touches Will’s shoulder. “But if you ever feel like talking, I’m here. I’m always here.” She rolls her eyes at the last sentence, sarcastically.

“Thanks.”

Bev is about to move when she and Will hear a thud.

“What was that?” Katz asks and Will wonders from which room the noise came. He moves to the right and knocks at the first door. Nothing. He knocks again and then opens the door. It’s not locked and when Will takes a step inside, he sees the lamp on. Bev walks in as well and looks around the room. She approaches the desk and sees a man lying behind it.

“Here! Help!”

Will exits the room to call for some help while Beverly starts resuscitating the man. She can’t find the pulse or the heartbeat but she still tries. Maybe it was just a stroke and he can be saved yet. Nothing. The man doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t respond.

A few medics walk in along with Will but the man is already gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

Will is sitting in a chair in the kitchen, sipping some tea. Maybe it was the alcohol that made him crazy? It doesn’t add up but Will is willing to hold on to any kind of excuse. He’s petting a dog with his other hand and thinking about Alan Bloom. Maybe if he talked to him, he wouldn’t judge him. Perhaps Alan would help. Help with what?

Will starts making a list in his head. He works out the possibilities and somehow, the least possible position seems to be the one that’s real. Will has met death. He sees him every time he’s around people who are about to die. How on earth could that be possible?

Will gets nervous and annoyed and he stands up from the chair. The dogs follow Will until he opens the door and does something incredibly stupid.

“If you’re out there, I’m ready to talk!” Will yells and waits for a second. Nothing. Just the winds blows in his face and he winces. He shuts the door and sits in his bed. He really is going mad. Buster joins Will on the bed and Will collapses on the sheets with a loud sigh.

The knocking that happens next makes Will jump and almost scream like a little girl. The dogs start barking and Will grabs his gun. It’s stupid, he knows, but he cannot help his habits. Will approaches the door and tries to check who’s on the other side. He can clearly see the man dressed in black. It must be Hannibal.

Will opens the door and Lecter looks at him with a sad, full of sorrow and regret expression, like a kicked puppy.

“Come in.”

Hannibal steps into the house and stands in the middle of the room. Will chuckles and points at a chair. They sit opposite each other and wait.

“I saw you today, didn’t I?” Will asks and Hannibal nods. “How does it happen? How do you know where to go and who to take? Is it random?”

“No. I have…guidelines that I follow.”

“Why didn’t you take me?”

“I couldn’t.”

Will is tired of that excuse. He thinks back to when he watched that weird movie about fate and how people who avoided a catastrophe died later anyway. Or that movie where other people had to die in someone’s place. To keep the nature in balance.

“Wait! Did anyone else die for me?”

“No. No one dies for anyone. Their time just comes to an end.” Hannibal explains and it makes Will slightly less worried.

“Why can I see you?” Will asks and narrows his eyes. He looks at the man, at his hands and his face. It’s like a normal stranger walked into his house.

“I’m not entirely sure.”

“But you have an idea?”

“I believe I made myself visible to you when I showed up to take you for the first time.”

That makes sense. Will has been seeing Lecter ever since and never before.

“You broke a rule for me. Why?” Will persists in his pursuit for the truth. He wants to know why he’s still alive, even if haunted by death.

Hannibal hesitates to answer. He looks around Will’s house and contemplates whether he should be honest and if Will would be able to tell that he’s lying. The fire makes the room warm and Will wonders if Hannibal can feel it.

“I’ve been watching you for so long. I felt like I knew you. It felt like a one-sided friendship to me. I couldn’t let you come with me.”

“Well, one day you’ll have to. When I’m old and wrinkled.”

“I still will not want to. I’ve grown fond of you, protective of you. I’m not sure I’ll handle watching you go.”

“But when I’m dead, won’t you see me constantly?”

“No. I’m a mere leader that is supposed to show the way to the land of the dead. But I’m always alone.”

Will looks at Hannibal and feels the same dull ache in his stomach.

“I’m alone, too. My whole life.”

Hannibal understands the man in front of him all too well. He reaches out and touches Will’s shoulder gently. Will smiles faintly and is about to say something when he realises Lecter is actually touching him. His eyes shift to his shoulder and Hannibal squeezes gently. Will can feel the touch and they both smile widely as if this was the biggest accomplishment of their lives.

“Patroclus.” Hannibal whispers, still watching the man’s shoulder.

“What?”

“You’re an incarnation of Patroclus.”

“The Iliad’s character?”

“You’re an incarnation of many great men. Whole generations were envious of your beauty and charm. And I meet you again.” Hannibal moves his hand, close to Will’s face but not touching. “But you’re not the same, are you?”

“Probably not. Wait, we’ve met?”

“Yes. I have other incarnations, too. Last time I was born a child in Lithuania before the Second World War. My parents and sister were killed. I was made an orphan, a perfect candidate to become Death.” Hannibal explains and nearly cries.

“Do you have to suffer such loss every time you come to earth?”

“Yes.”

Will can almost feel all the wounds open in the man. He wishes he could make the sorrow go away. He wishes he remembered his every incarnation.

“I suppose now, that you’ve materialised, we could have a drink?” Will asks playfully. Hannibal tilts his head shyly but then Will stands up and in a moment brings two glasses and booze. “I hope you like whiskey because that’s all I can offer you.”

Hannibal is handed a drink and it makes his throat burn pleasantly. He cannot remember the taste of alcohol.

“So, tell me more about our past.”


	4. Helpless

The sunlight invades Will’s house and tries to penetrate Will’s eyes. He wakes up slowly and opens his eyes reluctantly. His head does not hurt but there is a white noise inside that annoys him. After a time of excessive drinking and then not drinking at all, one or two – how many was that exactly? – can make enough damage. Will remembers the evening and the man’s presence in his house. He can still feel it.

Will stands up and quickly makes the bed. He immediately leaves the house. The breakfast he buys on his way to the Bureau, namely an apple and a coffee. He doesn’t even say as much as hello but rather barges into the lab and grabs the first laptop he can put his hands on.

“What is going on?” Price asks but mainly Zeller and Bev because Will seems to have already lost it. The two co-workers only shrug and continue processing the dead body brought in just before Will arrived.

Will looks up from the screen and notices that no one is paying attention to him, so he goes on to typing in ‘Hannibal Lecter Lithuania’. There is not much information. On one website with the victims of WWII in Lithuania the whole Lecter family is mentioned. That doesn’t add much to Will’s knowledge. He goes through census around that time but even if he found Hannibal Lecter in there, how would he know this is the man? Will sighs and throws a look at the dead body just a few feet away.

“Right. Time to work.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Will finds himself obsessed with Lecter. He keeps thinking whether Hannibal can see him all the time, see his every move. It becomes a problem when Will goes to the toilet. He feels anxiety and keeps record of his every step.

Bev and Zeller also see something is odd about Will but don’t mention it as long as he’s focused on work. And Will is. His mind jumps between images from the crimes scenes, forming a three dimensional short movies, starring Will as the killer. He hates when he has to step into the shoes of men so terrifying but he knows this is what helps other people. This way he can prevent another murder.

The evening comes quick and Will drives an hour to his house where the dogs already miss him. This is what he likes about his furry friends – they’re less needy than people and are always glad to see Will. And he is glad to see them. They are warm and make him feel less alone.

Will makes dinner and tea, then watch some sports on tv. The evening passes and there is no knocking. Hannibal is not coming tonight, is he? Will pets the dogs, turns off the lamps and goes to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days are a horror. Will joins the team at allegedly the Ripper’s crime scene in Baltimore. The weather couldn’t be worse and Will feels sick. It’s raining; the clouds are heavy and grey over the heads of the team. Everyone is pissed to be called to another murder but this is their job.

Will sneezes and curses his life but looks at the ‘fresh’ dead body. There are a few signs that this could be the Ripper but the scene seems all too simple. Bev is crouching over the body and checks the wounds, while Price and Zeller are more interested in the area surrounding the victim. This might be the third pig in the Ripper’s slaughter so the window might have just been closed before Will got to the man. Still, this is only a hypothesis so far.

The pendulum swings in Will’s mind and takes him to the night before.

Will follows a person, someone in a nice beige coat, someone seemingly wealthy. The person steps inside a house and Will waits. This is not the victim. The victim is not yet home and Will lifts the collar of his coat to hide his face. He moves to approach the door in another house and he unlocks it. He has a key. How the hell did he get a key?

Will waits. He prepares himself for the arrival of his prey. The clock on the wall strikes nine when the door is being unlocked again. Will punches the man who takes the first step into the house and the noise made by the clock mixes with a thud. A perfect disguise.

The man is dragged to a dining room with huge high windows. Will rips the man’s jacket and then shirt open and looks for something, something on skin. There is a minute tattoo on the man’s side, just a small sign. Will picks a knife and cuts the man, wanting to cut out the part of the skin with the tattoo. The man wakes up due to the extreme pain and Will chokes the man. He wants to fight so Will sticks the knife into the man’s throat and a huge amount of blood gushes straight onto Will’s face. He cuts out the piece of skin and then makes a few more scars to hide the true purpose of the mutilation. Then, Will washes his face and hands in the sink, smooths his coat and leaves the house. When he’s on the street, he sees a man dresses in black clothes. It’s late and it’s dark so he cannot see the man’s face. The way he walks is familiar though. Something about him makes Will zone out.

He extends his hand and Zeller points at Will. Bev frowns and then whisper’s Will’s name.

Will turns, hearing his name, as the man in black approaches the house he just left. He squints and moves in the man’s direction. This may be a witness, this man may be helpful, he may have seen the killer. He might have seen the Ripper.

“Will!”

Will shakes his head and opens his eyes. He’s confused and he starts breathing heavily. He almost got it.

“What happened?”

“You seemed to have taken it too seriously. Your nose is bleeding.” Bev says and hands him a tissue.

“Thanks.”

Will wipes his nose and looks at the dead body. He looks for the spot where the skin was cut.

“What did you see?” Crawford asks.

“It’s not the Ripper. The killer mutilated the victim to hide what he was looking for.” Will points at the spot with a cut out skin. “There was a mark there, a sign, a tattoo. Perhaps the man was a member of an organization of sorts. A cult or a gang. But it wasn’t the Ripper.”

“Unless they hired him to off the guy.” Zeller cuts in.

“He has a reputation. He would be expensive.” Jimmy reasons and Bev rolls her eyes. She nods to Will and he smiles faintly.

~~~~~~~~~~

The evenings become a kind of ritual for Will. He eats, reads, watches tv, plays with his dogs. He does everything while patiently waiting for Hannibal. The man hasn’t visited him for a while and Will starts worrying again. Was this really a hallucination? Or did Hannibal find a way to become invisible for Will again?

Will falls asleep on the bed, book on his chest and a dog under his heavy arm. The night is warm and one window is open so the house is filled with the sounds made by crickets.

Will doesn’t even begin dreaming when there is single knock on the door. And another a moment later.

Will leaves the bed, his heart starts racing at the thought that this could be Hannibal. He opens the door and the dream returns. The man is dressed in black, head hung and face fairly pale. Will ushers the man inside and points at the usual chair for Hannibal to sit, while he retrieves some whiskey.

“Haven’t seen you for a while.” Will says and sips the drink.

“I was busy.” Hannibal explains and Will spots a difference also in the man’s voice. It’s more present, without the strange echo, but somehow betraying the man’s nervousness and sorrow.

“Oh god, don’t tell me.”

“You know anyway.”

“Is that why you’re so shaken up?”

Hannibal gulps the whiskey and nods. That’s a weird phenomenon – to see Death being honestly upset with his actions. Will has never given that much thought but if were to, he would expect Death to enjoy his ‘job’.

“It gets more and more difficult. I rarely feel such…grief.”

“Well, it’s rather understandable.”

“I have to go and take families, whole families who die, either in accidents or fires. I take people, soldiers, who fight for the right cause and those who are on the other side. I visit people so unhappy and desperate, they felt compelled to take their own life. It’s them that mess up my schedule. Unpredictable. I hate that. And I hate the sorrow in them.”

“You feel sorry for them.” Will explains.

“I never have. It’s strange.”

“It’s what makes us human.”

Hannibal looks at Will and frowns. Will chuckles but then, suddenly, realises something he hasn’t before – Hannibal visits dead people. He could point out the killers! Will’s pupils dilate, his hands starts shaking. He looks at Hannibal, at the bottle of whiskey on the table. Hannibal narrows his eyes, focusing on Will and trying to figure out what is happening to him.

“Hannibal!” Will says, finally and throws his hands in front of him to stop something spinning in his head. “Do you see the murderers when you go for the victims?”

Lecter looks at Will, face impossible to read.

“I can’t help you.” Hannibal states calmly.

“I need your help.” Will says, desperation breaks his voice. “I need you to tell me who the Ripper is.”

“I cannot tell you. I will not tell you.”

Will jumps out of his chair, frightening Hannibal, and starts walking around the room, frustrated. He has the perfect opportunity to find the killers, the perfect tool he could use and Hannibal has the audacity to deny his help.

“You saved me. You wanted me alive because you know I save other people. Let me be the best at something I’m good at.” Will begins his pleading but Hannibal seems to be implacable. “You feel bad about what you do. I can only imagine how that must feel like, to come for someone earlier than it was meant to be. You must despise murderers.”

Hannibal looks away, away from Will, to the fireplace and the dogs sleeping by it.

“Even if I told you, how would you explain it to your boss? How would you explain it to your colleagues, to people?”

Will is thrown off balance. He didn’t think about it.

“I’ll figure it out. I’ll make up something. Just, please, help me. Help those people.”

“That would be unethical of me.”

Will bursts into laughter. He wants to pour himself another drink but he’s aware that would cloud his judgement and make him unreasonable. He needs his mind to stay clear and focused.

“Don’t do this for me. Do it for those people that you hate coming for too early. They deserve more time. They deserve the time they were offered.”

Hannibal looks straight into Will’s eyes and as much as it feels impossible, Lecter’s eyes are filled with more sorrow, pain and regret. Hannibal stands up, smooths his clothes and heads towards the door.

“I cannot give you what you expect of me so I believe it’s best if I leave you. Good night, Will.”

The door shuts with a soft click and Will stays in place. He closes his eyes, and sighs. He didn’t ask for too much, did he? The clock strikes eleven and Will pours himself that previously denied drink. He doesn’t go to bed before midnight, thinking about the ways how he could tell Crawford, or anyone else for that matter, how he caught a lead on a killer if Hannibal agreed to his proposition.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Will wonders if the night before ever happened. He goes back to the theory that he’s hallucinating and Hannibal is just the creation of his exhausted brain after so many traumas. This is unhealthy. He needs to talk to a psychiatrist. Maybe he invented the man to explain and excuse things that seem too difficult to understand. Will has never had problems with understanding anything and the prospect makes him feel weak and sick.

The cases form a pile of files, which looks utterly innocent. It is only after you open a file and see the gory, full of blood and violence scene, when you realise the truth behind Will’s work. They say that if you work long enough, it stops shocking you – all the bad and ugly things that people are capable of. But Will is certain he’ll never get used to that. He meets a new monster almost every month and every story uncovers long-hidden filth gathering in people’s souls.

Eventually, you become numb. Or at least you think you do. That’s what it takes to continue working in this profession. But Will isn’t numb. He can still tell the difference between right and wrong. He still cares. That’s why he was willing to make any deal with…Death.

The day spent at the lab shifts Will’s focus to the case again and he tries to abandon any thoughts of Hannibal for at least a moment. It works. Jack’s yelling at his office works. Alan’s visit in the afternoon doesn’t help.

When Will looks at dr Bloom, he faces the dilemma – to tell about his hallucinations or keep quiet and suffer. Will speaks politely and even smiles from time to time. He answers all the questions like a good student by a blackboard. There is no other way but for Alan to figure out something is odd.

“I haven’t seen you so cheerful for a while. It’s a nice change.”

“Well, I’m trying to be positive. Too much shit in my life has already happened. I crave change.”

Alan smiles widely. Will never knows exactly what his friend thinks and right now is no different. Bloom entangles a finger in his hair and licks his lower lip. Then, he says goodbye and leaves Will alone.

How about that? That last sign seemed to be an attempt at flirt with Will and the sudden retreat an invitation for a chase. But does Will want to chase? Is Alan the one he wants to pursue? Sure, they like each other, but there is something missing for their relationship to become romantic. A passion, craving, longing. Exactly like Will longs now for Hannibal. He messed up. He messed up even an imaginary relationship with a hallucination. Bravo.

The days pass like they used to before Will killed Hobbs. The cases, even though extraordinary, feel like a dumb routine. Will looks for patterns and then glues the pieces of evidence together, fixing it into a one single logical explanation. The Ripper is still out there, probably preparing his next show. The third victim and he may disappear. For a month, a year, a decade. But eventually, he will return.

The nights pass unbearably. They are symmetrical equivalents of the days, with more amount of longing and desperation. Will starts drinking again. Not much, but enough to make it easier to sleep and more difficult to get up in the morning.

Weeks pass before Will decides that this is really unhealthy. How many bottles of whiskey before he starts hallucinating again? How many glasses at one night till he sees Hannibal? Will is torn. He knows he can give up drinking and this may be the solution to hallucinations. He will never see Hannibal again and move on with his life as it used to be. But then again, he needs one more shot. He wants to talk to Lecter and say his goodbye.

It’s on one warm night in May when Will sits on his porch, drink in hand, and watches the dogs run around the house. He throws them a stick from time to time and they bring it back to him. It’s what makes him happy – the easy solitude with a loving company. He doesn’t expect more, doesn’t count on more. The light wind caresses Will’s face and the alcohol burns pleasantly his throat, flowing further straight into his veins. It’s getting hot and the breeze brings relief. The leaves on the trees rustle in a comforting manner and Will hums gently a song he remembers from the time he was a teenager.

Then, the grass rustles as if an animal was moving on the ground. Maybe a rabbit or crickets. Will has his eyes closed and enjoys the private moment. The rustling doesn’t stop and becomes louder as the animal seems to be approaching Will on the porch. The man opens his eyes when the rustling finally stops by the stairs. Will blinks and rubs his eyes. He moves in his chair and then looks at the glass in his hand. Not empty yet, Will isn’t drunk. This cannot be a hallucination.

“Hannibal.” Will says gently, barely audible to the man dressed in black and standing by the stairs.


	5. Heartbeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just read 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' and am drowning in feels ;__; help

“I’m not dying, am I?” Will asks, feigning fear and terror but is genuinely amused with himself. Hannibal looks at him with his eyes dead cold and Will can feel the chill running through his spine and all over his body. He starts shaking and thinks he’ll put on a jacket. “Are you going to come inside?” Will asks and stands up from the chair.

“If I may.”

Will nods and they step inside the house. Hannibal waits for the permission to sit down and Will actually laughs at that. He looks at Lecter with his arms crossed against his chest and then sits in the chair, while Hannibal still stands. This is pointless, it’s not even funny. Will points at the other chair and Hannibal takes a seat.

“How have you been?” Will asks before he realises how stupid the question is. He wants to chuckle but Hannibal answers the question.

“Terrible. I was wandering around, doing ‘my job’, and I kept thinking about your words.”

There is a brief pause and Hannibal is about to say more but Will precedes him.

“I wasn’t in the right state of mind. I’m still not sure if I am now.”

“I didn’t change my mind.” Lecter states and Will nods, acknowledging the decision.

“I don’t expect you to.”

Will looks at Hannibal and knows something has changed. The man seems more transparent. And not in a metaphorical way. He literally looks as if he was a ghost. Will can almost see the wall behind him.

“You’re not hallucinating, Will.” Hannibal says with sorrow in his voice. “I only… I’m gradually becoming like I was before.”

“Why?”

Hannibal smiles faintly. “My bond with the earth lessened.” Will feels guilty. He feels responsible for the state Hannibal is in. Not yet invisible, on the other side of the veil, but close.

“How can I keep you here?”

“Do you want to keep me?”

“I want to bring you back to earth, I want to bring an end to your suffering. You told me stories of- of us, in different times. You said we will forever be coming back and meeting for the first time.” Will extends his hands but he cannot touch Hannibal anymore. “How come I don’t remember that? I want to remember that.”

“You can’t. This is your life now.”

“But you’re the only element in the equation that remains the same.”

“This was not supposed to be like that.”

“I know. I should be dead.”

“But reborn.”

“When?”

Hannibal hesitates. He doesn’t know the answer. Will shakes his head and stands up. He looks at the bottle of whiskey on the table and then at the dogs.

“It’s difficult to imagine having a different life than this. I got used to living here.”

Lecter follows Will’s gaze and understands. He would like to join this sanctuary and never leave. But this is his fate and his fate will never allow him easy and peaceful life. He’ll be lucky if get a chance at another meeting with Will.

“Will you stay? Or do you have to be somewhere?” Will asks with a grimace.

“I’ll stay.”

“Good.” Will nods.

By three in the morning Hannibal has worn thin of the amazing stories of Will’s past incarnations and achievements. The bottle of whiskey is half empty and Will has settled on the bed. Finally, he falls asleep, surrounded by the dogs which were bold enough to jump on the master’s bed. They curl up to Will and make him warm.

~~~~~~~~~~

Beverly pats Will friendly on the shoulder when he escapes the mind of the killer. They are standing over the dead bodies in the lab and for the last few minutes Will has been trying to understand the murderer’s motive. He’s blushing and his nose starts bleeding again at the sudden realisation. He’s ashamed of the fantasies occupying his mind.

“Spill it!” Bev says when Jimmy and Brian leave the lab for lunch.

“What?”

“You’re blushing, Will. I even saw you smile once today.”

“It’s nothing. I’m not-” Will cannot finish the sentence as Alan walks in.

“Will, Jack wants to see you.”

Will nods and leaves the lab before he can say something stupid. He returns after fifteen minutes, grabs his coat and is about to leave, when Alan offers to walk him to the door.

“What did he want?”

“Oh, nothing. Just for me to be focused on the Ripper’s case, since there is one victim left and then we might lose him for a while.”

“I’m afraid we won’t find him by then.”

Will bites his lips and sighs. He has a perfect way to find the Ripper but it’s connected with a supernatural being who is annoyingly uncooperative.

“I’m doing everything I can. With a pinch of luck I’ll find a clue.”

“I sincerely hope you do.” There is a pause and they reach Will’s car at the lot. “There is a conference in Washington next week. I believe it will be educational. I was wondering if you’d like to come.”

“I’m not good around people.” Is forever working excuse Will gives every time he has to go somewhere public.

“I’d be there. I’d make sure the other scholars won’t eat you.” Alan smiles and Will chuckles.

“I’m really needed here. But thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Will hums softly when he makes dinner and gulps another glass of whiskey. He’s smiling even with the awareness that the pile of files id waiting for him on the table and he will have to face it. Soon.

The dinner is gone in a few minutes and the dogs are fed as well. They settle by the door, probably hoping for a guest to arrive, much like Will does. He sits in his chair and opens the file. There must be something that could lead Will to the Ripper. There has to be a minute detail that will betray him. No one is perfect and everyone makes mistakes.

At midnight Will puts away the documents and the pictures and rubs his eyes. He’s grown tired and Hannibal isn’t coming. He could do with some sleep. Will doesn’t even change, he simply settles at the edge of the bed and closes his eyes. One of the dogs curl up to him and the night passes peacefully.

Will wakes up at four, all drenched in sweat and shaking. He takes off his clothes and goes to take a shower. The water sprays on his body and Will feels how his muscles burn. It’s like he’s run a marathon. His throat feels sore and he’s thirsty. Will places his palms on the wall and hangs his head. He lets the stream wash over him. But as soon as he closes his eyes, a recollection of a dream haunts him and makes him shudder.

Will jumps out of the shower and quickly dries himself. The same dream two nights in a row. He needs coffee, he needs to focus.

The files wait for Will after breakfast consisting of exactly one slice of bread with cheese. He starts reading the same pages, again and again until his head hurts and he needs to take a pill. He lets the dogs out and breathes in the fresh air. He blinks and suddenly the yard becomes a battle field. He sees himself dying on the ground with a spear in his chest. Another blink and the dogs play before Will’s eyes.

So the hallucinations have decided to return and haunt Will further, this time distracting him with images of his death. In another life. Will sighs. He’s been sceptical and cynical all his life. He cannot suddenly start believing in ghosts and paranormal activities or supernatural beings, can he?

He spends the whole day at home, not bothered by anyone, even Jack or Alan. He’s left alone to focus all his attention on finding the Ripper. It’s been a failure so far. There are signs, small indications that the Ripper lives in Baltimore, but not much else. He might be a doctor, a cop, or even a journalist. The list goes on and on.

Will looks at the pictures; he knows all the details by heart now and can pinpoint every wound in every victim. Yet, it’s still not enough to catch the guy. The drink in Will’s hand gets warm so he moves to the kitchen to add some ice to it. When he returns to his chair, someone knocks at the front door.

“Hannibal, is that you?” Will yells through the walls. In response, a muffled ‘yes’ reaches Will’s ears. “You don’t really have to knock, do you?”

“That’s a polite thing to do and… no, actually I need you to open the door.”

Will frowns and stands up. He opens the door and lets Hannibal inside. The man seems on edge but he’s smiling. And his body looks solid; he’s not a ghost. He and Will sit in the chairs and look at each other.

“I’m lost. I…” Hannibal reaches for the glass Will put on the table. He can touch it. He lifts it and gulps the burning liquid.

“I’m lost, too.” Will confesses and when Lecter raises his thin eyebrows, he goes on. “For the last two nights I’ve been having those dreams that feel like memories. They come back to me. The first night I dreamt about us, you touching…me. I thought it was just my wild imagination but then there was more. Then I saw us hide but they found out about us and you… I was only scolded and banished. You were beheaded.”

Hannibal smiles faintly. He looks into Will’s eyes and nods, confirming the events happened, the dreams were real.

“You wanted to remember. Now you do.”

“I saw myself die today when I was watching the dogs. I’m hallucinating.”

“You transmogrify. You start recalling our past. You’re becoming truly yourself.”

“I am truly myself! I am not some ancient hero or whoever you think I am. I am Will Graham, a profiler, I love dogs, I…” Will sighs in surrender. “I’m not who you want me to be.”

“You are.” Hannibal says confidently and Will looks at him with curiosity. He extends his arm and touches Hannibal’s hand. It’s warm. The man is real. He feels real. Will stands up and Lecter frowns. Graham beckons him to stand up as well and when Hannibal does, Will places his palm on the man’s chest. Both of the men’s eyes widen but Will’s for a different reason. He closes his eyes and lets the slow pumping vibrate directly into his palm.

“I can feel your heartbeat.” Graham whispers. After a few seconds Will’s eyes shift to Hannibal’s lips and he hesitates. The man in front of him is not very likely to vanish into thin air but for Will it still feels like a dream. Can he make it real?

Before Will leans in, Hannibal moves his hand to caress his cheek. Their lips meet in a silence and quiet peck. Will moves slightly to improve the angle and kisses Hannibal more eagerly now. The man is an inch or two taller but it doesn’t create an obstacle in their makes out session. It’s only when Will’s lungs demand more oxygen that the men break the connection. Will’s breathing is shallower, his hands on Hannibal’s shoulders.

“Have we ever…” He wonders whether he needs to finish his question and how exactly should he do that. “…been together?”

Lecter looks him in the eyes and with all honesty and affection he nods, the movement almost undetectable. But Will knows. He saw only pieces of the puzzle in his dreams and now he believes he has a sense of unity.


	6. See you in another lifetime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the finale which i hope will break Your hearts even if a little bit ^^

Will wakes up when the sun invades the room and reaches his eyes. His heavy eyelids lift and then he frowns. He’s not alone in his bed – a warm outline of another body presses against him and reminds him of the night before. He and Hannibal drank whiskey and talked about Will’s job. He complained about it but eventually stated there was no better job for him, fixing boat motors always seemed too easy. Later, they made out and cuddled. They petted the dogs and went to sleep. The new day awaited them both.

Now, Will smells earthy scent and something like a mist filling his bed. He turns and sees Hannibal supported on his elbow, watching Graham.

“Did you sleep at all?” Will asks.

“I had my eyes closed for a moment.” Hannibal says with a smile. He extends his hand and touches Will’s face. Graham leans into the touch and sighs. This isn’t going to work out. They cannot be together.

Hannibal shifts on the bed and Will supports his head on the other’s chest. Lecter strokes Will’s hair and arms, he kisses Will’s head. What now? There is no future before them. They can enjoy this moment of bliss but they will have to leave the bed eventually and Hannibal will have to go, and Will is going to be called to work. In a few months the gentle caresses and the mystery will not be enough anymore and they will have to split. So what now?

“Were you here all night? Or did you sneak out for a moment?”

Hannibal chuckles but then his smile disappears. He knows what Will means. Graham rises from his comfortable pillow and turns to look at the other man. “Tell me.”

“I was gone for a while, yes.”

“No, not that. That I can guess. Tell me the thing I need to know but cannot figure out for myself.”

Hannibal sighs and looks away. He remains silent.

“I know I said I didn’t expect you to tell me. I know I promised not to ask again. But this, here, what we have…”

“Do you make me an ultimatum? Either I tell you or we’re done?”

“No. Of course not. But we’re done anyway. You’re a ghost. There is no future for us.”

Lecter blinks. The words sting and cut a hole in his non-existent soul. He wants to be mad, wants to shut the door and never come back, but he’s aware Will is right – living together happily was never an option for them. Instead, Hannibal reaches for Will’s hand and kisses the knuckles.

“Please, tell me. Break the rule for me. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“He could kill you.” Hannibal answers calmly and Will looks at the dogs by the fireplace.

“Maybe that’s for the best. We could start all over in the next life. This one set us too far apart.”

Hannibal blinks a few times to prevent himself from crying. His eyes are red anyway and there is sheer sorrow painted on his face.

“I should be dead right now anyway. I’ve been tricking life long enough.” Will adds and remembers the many times he thought he was going to die or that he was dead already.

“I cannot let you go to slaughter.”

“I’m a cop. I know how to defend myself.”

“I won’t be able to protect you. I cannot fight. I don’t know if I would be excused if I saved you again.”

“You won’t have to. I’ll be careful. Just tell me.”

Hannibal kisses Will. He looks for the ways to prolong this moment. The clock is ticking in the background and the dogs wake up slowly. Is there no universe in which they can be together? Is there no life for them to share? Just one, only one, Hannibal prays. He’s give everything to be mortal again, in these times, with Will. The dilemma hurts his heart and head. If he gives Will the name there is a possibility for them to find themselves in another lifetime. But he cannot watch Will die. Not now. Not ever. Not again.

The name that slips out from his lips stings. Lecter closes his eyes in vain hope that he’s only imagining it. Will smiles faintly, proud of himself. He managed to get the name. Now he has to catch the guy. The kiss he places on Hannibal’s lips is not reassuring. It feels like goodbye and is filled with sorrow.

“I’ll see you in another lifetime.” Will whispers. This _is_ a goodbye. Whether Will lives or dies, he cannot be with Hannibal. There is no point in denying the fact. Will puts on a jacket and leaves the house, glancing once more at the man behind.

~~~~~~~~~~

Graham arrives at the Bureau and hurries to the lab. He enters the database and looks for the name Hannibal gave him. Nothing. No criminal record, no fingerprints, no DNA sample. There is merely some information about the man online. A medical doctor. Will looks at the photos and his brain starts only now processing. Dr Frederick Chilton, the surgeon who operated on him when he was stabbed, a few years ago. The face becomes familiar and Graham almost wants to throw up at the thought that the man saved his life while taking the lives of others.

There is no evidence against him, nothing that could bring Will closer to the doctor. He has no grounds to investigate him. But maybe he could visit the man on the pretext of thanking him. When exactly was he stabbed? No, it’s not remotely close to the anniversary. He has to figure out something to get into the man’s house, to provoke him to action. Will is determined to give up his own life to prove a point. And death doesn’t seem so terrifying anymore.

Will writes down the address where Chilton lives and where he works. He should probably go to the hospital first.

The nice tiny lady in the reception tell Will that dr Chilton works in different hours but mostly in the morning. He’s only called to emergencies that require the steady hand of a professional. Will asks the lady for Frederick’s phone number or address because he desperately wants to talk to him, he wants to thank him for saving his life and he actually doesn’t want to bother him at work. The lady has doubts but Will’s charming smile and big eyes convince her to help him.

Will drives at the given address, which is the same as he found in the database. He waits. The weather is terrible the whole day and now it starts raining. It’s getting dark because of the heavy clouds and a lamp is lit in the house that Will observes. The man’s home. Now or never.

Will opens the glove compartment and takes out his gun. He’s aware he’s putting a lot at risk but Hannibal must be right. Will gets out of the car and knocks at the front door. Everything can happen now.

The door is not opened immediately but when after a minute a short, nicely dressed man appears behind Will’s eyes he just _knows_ he’s right.

“Yes?” The man asks, waiting for Will to explain why he’s here.

“My name is Will Graham. I’m a police officer.” Chilton’s face does not even twitch. “Well, I used to be. Look, I was your patient a few years back and I never actually got to thank you. I know it must seem stupid now, but-”

“Would you like to come inside?” The man asks, looking at the street and then shifting to reveal the interior of the house. Will nods, murmurs something and steps inside.

“I don’t want to interrupt or bother you.”

“This is perfectly fine. I was going to have dinner. Would you like to join me?”

“Um, yes. Thank you.”

Chilton leads them through the long bright corridor right to the dining room. He points a chair where Will can sit and brings in the food. It’s served on a beautiful plate, a fancy dish Will knows he’s never had and never will have the pleasure to eat again.

“If you need salt, tell me. I tend to add too little, afraid I may spoil the whole dish.”

“It’s perfect really.” Will says after the first bite. He looks around carefully. The room is decorated in a sophisticated manner, probably by an expensive interior designer.

“So you said you were my patient?”

“Yes. I was stabbed in the shoulder while on duty. You saved me.”

Chilton smiles, reveals his tiny white teeth, and bows his head gently, acknowledging the implied compliment.

“I did what I was trained to do.” The doctor answers and Will wants to punch the man. Hannibal came for him then so Chilton really didn’t do such a good job. He should be dead. “And I’m sure you do what you were trained to do just as well.”

Will blinks and smiles faintly, his eyes narrow gently due to incomprehension. 

“Although now you may feel a little useless. You still haven’t solved one case, which hangs so heavily over your head.” Now Will frowns genuinely and Chilton chuckles. “I saw your photo online. The headline was saying ‘It takes one to know one’. The journalist explained you are looking for the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“Yes, I am. Have been for some time now.”

“The article described you as unstable and unpredictable.”

Will looks at Chilton’s plate. The knife is missing. The man thinks he’s sneaky.

“They probably related to my medical history. I was treated for depression.”

Chilton nods.

“People will never understand certain things. They think you’re crazy and that’s why they expect you to catch the Ripper – because they believe he’s crazy, too.”

“I’m not crazy.” Will states firmly.

“I hope you’re not. I invited you to my home.” Frederick says lightly, almost laughing. Will smiles politely.

“Excuse me, can you show me a way to the bathroom?”

“It’s the second door on the right.” Chilton says and devours another mouthful of meat. Will nods, and stands up from his chair. The conversation isn’t going so great but what else did he expect? The man can’t downright confess to being a murderer.

Will looks around the corridor and checks if Frederick isn’t following him. He opens the first door, looking for any kind of evidence that would help Will bring this case to an end. Nothing. A perfectly clean and neat kitchen. Most of the tableware is hidden in the cabinets, the surfaces are empty.

The second door is the bathroom, as advertised, but Will goes farther along the corridor. There are stairs leading up and more doors on the left. Will opens the next one and finds a study full of books and academic stuff. What possibly could Will find that would somehow prove Chilton is guilty?

The answer to Will’s question comes as if on cue. He spots that in the straight line of perfectly arranged books, one is missing on the forth shelf. What is more, a book is lying on the desk next to a hanging skeleton. A reference for a medical doctor, for sure, nothing wrong about it.

Will lifts the book and sees that the cover is missing a title, an author, anything really. It’s completely blank. Will thumbs through the book and finds that it’s not an ordinary book but a sketchbook. It’s full of detailed drawings. Chilton is very talented but another thing so conspicuous about the pictures is that they all present the murder scenes. The bodies are laid in positions that Will saw in the photographs. After counting them, it turns out there is one more than the Ripper’s murders but the last one is unfinished. Did Will interrupt Frederick when he came here?

It’s probably been enough time and Will has to come back not to seem suspicious. He puts down the sketchbook and leaves the study.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack Crawford enters the Bureau, unaware of the crime happening at the moment. He returns after a meeting in Pentagon, genuinely pissed but trying to look calm. He walks through the corridor, heading to his office. Bev smiles at him and Jimmy and Zeller nod their heads. Jack greets a secretary, who jumps out of a surprise. She must have been thinking about something else, must have been distracted.

“Mr Crawford! Will Graham was here. He was looking for you. He told me to give you this address.” The woman hands Crawford a piece of paper. “He said that if he didn’t show up or call in three hours, you should go there.”

“And how long it’s been since he told you that?”

The woman looks at her watch and taps it three times. “Three and a half hour, sir.”

“Christ.”

Jack runs for Bev, Price and Zeller. They all pack their stuff hurriedly and then get in Crawford’s car. Bev already checks the address in the database and finds out the owner of the house lives alone. Dr Frederick Chilton.

Half an hour later they all get out of the car. Jack drove fast, breaking most of the laws on their way there. The district seems nice, only wealthy and respected must be living here. They look for the house from the address and Jack takes out his gun. He holds it casually while his other hand knocks at the door. They wait for a moment and then ring the doorbell. A man opens the door, visibly exhausted and sweaty, wearing a tracksuit.

“Yes?”

“I’m Jack Crawford, FBI.” Jack shows his badge. “We have a reason to believe one of our agents visited you. His name is Will Graham.”

“The name does not ring a bell.” Chilton says.

“Do you mind if we step inside for a moment?”

Frederick shifts and opens the door wider for the agents to come in.

“I was just working out, so forgive me if I smell.”

“That’s perfectly fine. We’re sorry to interrupt but Will called me twenty minutes ago and said he was visiting a friend. He needed a lift.”

“And he gave you this address?” Chilton asks and Jack nods.

“You have your own private gym?” Zeller asks with sparks in his eyes. Frederick smiles and nods, confirming the statement. “Can I see? I was actually considering buying something to keep in shape, you know? I have a pretty big basement and it’s unused.”

“Forgive me, agents, but you’re looking for someone who isn’t here and I would appreciate if you let me continue with what I was doing.”

“Alright. We apologise for barging in on you like that. He must have made a typo or something of that sort.”

“Most likely.”

“Can I have a glass of water? I don’t feel well.” Beverly says and almost faints. Zeller holds her and Chilton leads them to the kitchen with a grimace on his face. He pours the woman a glass of water and hands it to her.

“Are you feeling any better?” Chilton asks, concerned.

“A little better, yeah. I just need to sit for a moment. My head is spinning.”

“Is it the baby?” Zeller asks, smiling at Bev. She knows what he’s doing. If Chilton is the Ripper, he might spare Bev knowing she’s pregnant.

“Probably.”

Frederick starts looking around and frowns. Jack raises his eyebrows questioningly.

“There was four of you. Now there’s three. One of your colleagues is missing.” Chilton explains.

“Oh, yes. Jimmy’s not here. He must have gone to the bathroom. He drinks a lot of tea.” Jack says quietly.

At that moment Price walks in the kitchen. He’s pale, his eyes are wide like he’s just seen a ghost. He looks at Jack and nods shakily. Chilton reaches for a knife on the counter but Jack is faster and catches the man’s wrist. He handcuffs him quickly while Jimmy pukes into the sink.

All of them go downstairs to see what Jimmy discovered. Price stops at the stairs and motions the rest to proceed without him. They enter a room in the basement which is Chilton’s workshop. There are drawings there, and souvenirs from all his victims. Will’s body is lying on a long wooden table. There are bruises on his neck and scratches on his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sunlight invades the room and is reflected by the walls. A man lying in the bed opens his eyes slowly and grunts. A machine next to the bed beeps, indicating the man’s heartbeat. There is shock and confusion painting in the man’s eyes as he looks around and sees two chairs and a vase with flowers on the small table beside the bed.

A man dressed in a white smock walks in and smiles faintly. He takes a few steps closer and then, after a moment, the patient’s vision is not hazy anymore.

“Hannibal…” Comes a mere whisper, barely audible in the room.

“Excuse me?” The doctor asks with a smile. He checks the equipment and the IV connected to the patient’s arm. “How do you feel?”

The man in bed has his eyes wide open. “I saw you. I thought you came for me. You were so sad, you were almost crying.” The sentences are bursts, along with the man’s shallow and quick breaths.

The doctor looks at his patient, straight into the man’s eyes, and waits. He remains silent.

“I’m so sorry, Hannibal. I’m so sorry.” The patient keeps repeating like a mad man. He extends his hand to touch the doctor’s face but the other man takes a step back.

“You’ve had a concussion. You need to rest.”

“I… I’m sorry. I must have mistaken you for someone else.” The patient says dryly.

“Yes, apparently.” The doctor says and heads to the door. As he leaves the room, he turns and winks with a smile to the man lying in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo.. the end ^^
> 
> (the implication is that Will was killed by the Ripper but that allowed the team to catch the guy  
> and Will and Hannibal meet again in another time, living different lives <3 )


End file.
